Witch for Hire

by Shyla Colt

  “I told you, he’s my soulmate. It’s not a figure of speech.”

  She spits on the ground. “He’s the undead. You let your emotions blind you. I know what blood bonds are.”

  “For others, yes. This is what being bond mates means for us. It’s not like the traditional pairings you’ve heard of. If he’d been alive, we would be the traditional soul matched pair, meeting again and again over the ages. Our destiny was written when the creator made us and matched us.”

  “No.” She clutches her throat.

  “Take it from me. Denying it won’t change the reality. I think deep down, I always knew. It wasn’t like me to go against the grain and cause the family distress. Our relationship was taboo. It broke the rules. The whispers came behind me like a shadow I couldn’t shake. I lost friends and standing. Still, the thought of leaving him never crossed my mind.”

  “How can you rule us and stand by his side?”

  “Very carefully.”

  “Oh, you are good,” she says. “Witch for Hire. The ultimate Switzerland. It’s a buffer between the two worlds you’re trying to live in? That’s why you pitched us the company.”

  “I won’t deny that it’ll help me, but I pitched it because it was time. We needed that extra layer of protection. I was sincere about my proposal.”

  “How many secrets are you keeping?”

  “Only the ones that aren’t mine to tell,” I say honestly.

  She shakes her head.

  “Don’t ask if you don’t want to know, Mom.”

  “Who are you? ’Cause I don’t recognize this woman standing in front of me.”

  “I’m not the sweet kid who took everything you said and believed it as her own truth, or the awkward young woman who struggled to make everyone happy and follow the rules to the letter and lost herself in the process. I’m Louella Esçhete. Bondmate to Cristobal Cortez, and future ruler of this family. It’s my job to keep us safe, strong, and progressive. Clinging to old, outdated ways and belief systems lead to the death of a family. We’ve seen it time and time again.”

  “Did you stop to think there might be a reason outside of ignorance and speciesism for keeping witches and vampires apart?”

  Her words send chills down my spine. “What do you mean?”

  “That’s enough.” We both jump as Mémé appears in the kitchen like a ghost. “You go cool off. I want a chance to talk to my grandbaby.”

  “Nothing you say will help her now,” Mom whispers. She walks away shoulders slumped, and feet dragging.

  “Come with me.” Mémé gestures for me to follow her out of the kitchen toward the porch. The cool night air tastes of freedom, moss, and damp earth as we leave the house. “We both know people fear what they can’t understand. They also fear power. You and your man were strong enough alone. Joined together, you’re an imposing force capable of bringing about great change. People will see that as a threat. They have a good reason. If you went dark, it would be devastating.”

  Before the words are fully out of her mouth, I’m shaking my head, my hair brushing against my neck. “Mémé, I would never do that.”

  “Not on purpose, or at first. Do you think every evil person was born that way? Little by little the dark creeps in, twisting, warping, and influencing. Life has a way of wearing a person down. We make choices we never thought we’d be capable be off. Don’t be so quick to say never.” She sinks into her white rocking chair. Worn with age it creaks as she sets it into motion. “Sit a spell.”

  Seated next to her, I wait.

  “Witches need other witches because we keep each other grounded. It’s the same reason we keep the council. Even in groups, we can reach too far, test boundaries meant to keep everyone safe, and take risks that may upset the balance. Not to mention the mistakes we need cleaned up. It’s an intricate system of checks and balances designed to keep as much as possible from slipping through the cracks. We need rules to keep us in line. You and your beau are nothing new. Witches have been falling for vampires for ages. They just made sure to keep it hidden, and if folks caught on, they turned a blind eye. Not you. It shook them. Add that to the fact that he went and leveled up to a capable Master Vampire, and you’re in line as the next leader of the Esçhete family?” Mémé whistles. “It’s a scary prospect. It reminds them too much of things in the past thought to be long buried.”

  “Mémé?” There’s a volume worth of secrets hidden in that last sentence.

  “Now isn’t the time for that story. When the phase arrives, I’ll be the one to tell it to you. Instead, I’ll tell you another tale about a very special friend of mine.”

  Mémé might be ninety, but she’s running laps around me mentally, speaking in riddles, and withholding information like a character on Supernatural. Caught in a barrage of truth bombs, I can do nothing more than nod my head in agreement.

  “When I was twenty, I met a man at the library while doing research for an old spell. He helped me locate the right information, and initiated a rousing conversation about history. He was dashing, in behavior and looks. Oh, he had the most soulful chocolate brown eyes I’d ever seen. His dark hair fell around a beautifully sculpted face.” Is Mémé swooning? “I was smitten. The fact that he was too old for me only made the crush more exciting. We became close. Things moved from library meetings to out in other towns …” Her voice trails off.

  “You fell in love with him,” I whisper, leaning forward and placing my arms on my jean-clad knees.

  “And he with me. I knew my family would never approve. But I couldn’t let him go. I feigned ignorance until he said the three words that severed our friendship. I love you.”

  “Mémé.”

  Tears roll down her face. “It was my catalyst for leaving. I was angry at the speciesism, my family, and my own cowardice. I wasn’t willing to fight for Percival, and I spent my entire life wondering what if.” Did she mean my Percival? No, she couldn’t have. “I’m not saying I want to go back and make a different decision. Your grand-père was a wonderful man. We had a steady love, built a family, and found happiness. When he died, Percival asked for a second chance.”

  “Percival … on Cristobal’s court.”

  “Yes.” She smiles.

  “Wow. Mémé. I don’t even know what to say.”

  “Surely, you can see his appeal?”

  “I … Yeah, I can see it.” I can’t get the expression on Percival’s face when he mentioned Mémé out of my head. It was longing and worry. My God. He still loves her.

  “That second time, I let fear take hold. I’ll always regret that. You followed your heart, and I couldn’t be prouder. Soulmates are a rare thing. A blessing not bestowed upon many. This is no coincidence.”

  “Mémé. I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be. This old gal had a good life. Maybe not the best it could’ve possibly been, but good nonetheless. I want to see you have your best life. That’s why I’m telling you all of this. Changes comes with opposition. It’s uncomfortable and full of uncertainty. It takes a strong person to stand firm against that kind of unrest and hostility. I know you can do it.” She chuckles. “Everyone thinks I decide my own successor. It’s not true. The power inside chooses where it wants to go next. I knew it would be you almost from the moment you were born. You caught its attention, made it sit up and take notice. Then your accidental magic started at two, it confirmed what I’d suspected all along.”

  “You never let on.”

  “I knew how hard your life would be. I wanted to let you be a child for as long as possible. So, I treated you like just another witch learning our ways. Perhaps this is why we’ve always gotten along so well. Like attracts like, and our lives have unfolded in similar manners.”

  “Mom’s furious and disappointed.”

  “She’s confused and blindsided. Give her time. She’ll come around. You’re her only d
aughter. We missed you becoming a woman. She’s still expecting the young girl trying to learn her place in the world. It’s going to take time for everyone to settle in.”

  “Mémé, do you think I’m doing the right thing?” I ask quietly. If I go down the wrong path, it’ll affect more than just me. My entire family’s future is at stake.

  “The more important question is, do you?”

  “I think I’m doing the best with the circumstances I’m given.”

  “You answered that question for me.” She pats my hand, and I lean back and join her rocking back and forth. Mémé hums the old hymn, “Peace in the Valley”, and for a moment I forget everything else. She takes me back to a simple time when responsibilities didn’t rule my world. Picking berries with my cousins and the local children, the bonfires we’d have, and the gatherings. I used to think life was full of magic and joy. I don’t feel that way anymore.

  My mother approaches us from the garden, lit by the twilight coloring the sky in shades of purple and blue.

  “I think I’ll retire to my room early. I’m not very hungry.”

  “No,” Mémé says.

  My mother splutters like a car out of gas. “M-Mom.”

  “She’s got a right to live her life the way she sees fit. I understand if you don’t agree with it, but we have no time for division among our ranks.”

  “Because business always comes before family.” My mother’s voice is acidic, and her face is twisted by anger. It hurts my heart to look at her.

  “No, child. You’ve got it all wrong. It’s because our business is family.” Mémé sighs, and I see every one of her ninety years. “Come. Let us cast a circle. We need a cleansing and calmness. There’s more at work here than emotions.”

  “Are we under attack?” I ask, instantly on edge.

  “I can feel the negativity clinging to us like salt water taffy. We got a lot of eyes on us. Not all of them wish us well. You get enough folks projecting bad on you, and it builds up. A spell unspoken. It’s not like you to be so closed off. Think about it.”

  My mother’s eyes widen. “You’re right.”

  “Come, let us cast.”

  She holds out her hands, and we stand on opposite sides of her and join hands. We bow her head as her voice washes over us, sure and full of power. I can feel the circle that closes in. Her voice is an instrument of power as she calls down the guardians. The circle sweeps away the negativity, opening up the closed spaces. At the end, when she opens the circle, I’m a million times lighter.

  “I’m not angry, Lou. Not really. I’m worried. You’ve got so many people looking toward you for answers, guidance, and protection. You were right. I still see you as the scared young woman who ran. I can’t lose you like that again. I won’t pretend I’m happy with your decisions, but you’re my baby girl. We’ll always find common ground.”

  With a tentative truce in place, I go into her arms like a homing pigeon. At least, one thing in my chaotic life has been set to rights.

  ***

  I flip through the appointment book and pause.

  “Fel, am I reading this right?” I blink as I study the log sheet. “We have an appointment in the Blanchard home at noon?” The old-fashioned witch family tended to stay to themselves. The thought of them stepping out of their comfort zone to hire us is odd.

  “You are. They want us to authentic a magical item. They’re having a dispute with the Morel family over a magical item. Both think they have an honest claim to it.”

  “I see why Sacha isn’t here.”

  “Yeah, they need an impartial third party to do the research, and deliver unbiased information.”

  “We can do that with our eyes closed.” A thrill runs through me. My fingers itch to touch the old leather bound books and feel the power radiating off them from the magic wielders who’ve come before us. “Do we know what the artifact is?”

  “No, they want us to come in blind. That way our responses won’t be tainted in any way.”

  A mystery I may actually be able to solve. All’s gone quiet on the eastern front. The witch has gone underground, and it’s become a waiting game with the equinox steadily approaching.

  When the bell above the door jingles, I’m grateful.

  The curvy woman is dressed head to toe in black with a pair of three-inch heels and a scarf wrapped around her head. She’s taking the secrecy to the next level. I could smell the crisp bills I knew must be stacked up in her bank account. The oversized sunglasses she wore cost more than some paid for rent. “Welcome to Witch for Hire. What can we do for you?”

  “I heard you can help with spells.” She places a hand on her collarbone, and I swear I’ve been dropped into an episode of Scooby Doo.

  How did she get our address?

  “Depends on the situation,” Fel says.

  “I own bed and breakfast with a lot of history. Paranormal activity has been known to happen. Missing things, noises, and sometimes people have been touched. It always held a light-hearted air about it. Until recently.”

  I exchange a look with Fel.

  “Did you change anything?” Fel asks.

  “We were doing some repairs. Not remodeling, but restoration. We’d put it off for long enough as it was. It had to be done.”

  “You seem to speak as if you knew changes might upset the spirits in the house,” Fel says. She must be picking up on the same things I am.

  She nods her head. “I’m a native. I know the stories, and I’m not stupid enough to disregard them.”

  “How has the activity changed?” I ask.

  “We hear clanks and bangs, seeing dark silhouettes, and the feeling in the building has changed. There are cold spots distinctively different from the temperature in the rest of the building. It’s progressing rapidly, and I’m afraid of what may happen if I wait.”

  “Do you know the history of your building?” Fel asks.

  “Just rumors.”

  “The first thing you need to do is block out a few days for us to come and do what we need to do. We’ll need full run of the B&B, and privacy.”

  “I’ll make it happen. I’ll say we’re having plumbing issues, and rebook them.”

  “We’ll need a week to do some research on your establishment. Which will give you time to settle things on your end,” I say.

  She removes her scarf and nods. “I need to know this will be kept confidential.”

  “Ma’am, believe me when I say, we know how to keep a secret,” Fel says.

  She smiles. “Yes, I suppose you do.”

  We make arrangements, block out Wednesday through Saturday of next week, and finish up just in time to head to the Blanchards.

  “I won’t lie, I feel horribly underdressed,” I admit as I take in my black dress with white polka dots and my black cat slip-ons.

  “I know. I feel the same way. It’s because we’ve never been over there unless it was for a formal occasion. Even the kids kept to themselves for the most part.”

  Images of the perfect posture possessing, impeccably dressed, and perfectly mannered Blanchard children come to mind. Ranging from tow-headed to dark haired, the six siblings have always had an arrogance and old-worldly bearing that set them apart. Pembroke, Hyperion, and Sykes were five years older, and always too serious and mature to play with the rest of us. When I left they were all tall and lanky with what we call witch eyes. Eyes light shades of blue and green so pretty they seemed unreal.

  Sawyer and Sage were more approachable, but still stiff and reserved. Their intelligence was scary high. They were creating their own spells when we were fumbling to control the elements. What they didn’t come by naturally, they made up for with knowledge and practice. They may have been twins, but they couldn’t be more different.

  “Do they all still live in the family home?” I ask.

  “Yep.
You know they’re traditionalists. They won’t leave the house until they marry. If then. To be fair, their house is so massive they probably rarely run into one another.”

  “True enough.” We turn out the lights, locking the door behind us as we head out to the car.

  Fel whistles. “Someone got an upgrade.”

  “More like someone used up my gas last night and didn’t replace it.” I hit the alarm on the Jaguar.

  “Sharing houses. Sharing cars. You two are starting to look like a married couple.”

  “As soon as this problem is taken care of I’m back in my home full time, believe me.”

  “Uh huh.” Felicites grins.

  “Shut up. You’re my favorite cousin, so I’d really hate to have to kill you. But I’ll do it if necessary.”

  “Your warm words fill my heart with happiness.”

  I scowl as we slip into the car. Everyone is getting way too comfortable with my comings and goings at Cristobal’s. Including me.

  We pull up in front of the wrought iron gates, with the decorative B in the center. A small intercom box rests beside the car, and in the distance the two-story, cream-colored home with dark blue railings is stunning. A blend of traditional with modern touches, it’s refined like its inhabitants. I lean out of the car to press the intercom, and it crackles to life.

  “Ms. Esçhete, we’ve been expecting you. We’ll open up at the gates, and someone will be there to meet you out front.” There’s something unsettling about knowing we were being watched. The gates slowly open, and I ignore the crawling of my skin as we pass through a protective barrier.

  “They’re hardcore, huh?” Fel whispers

  “They are sitting on a lot of history and powerful items. I can’t blame them for beefing up the security. Doesn’t make it any less uncomfortable to travel through, though.” I shudder. It’s like running into a spiderweb over and over. I park beside the other cars, and we step out only to be greeted by Sykes. My jaw drops when I take in the broad-chested, muscular man with a smart side part hairstyle, and a well-groomed beard and mustache combination. His pale green eyes sparkle with mirth. This is not the lanky boy I remember.